


Take Me Back to the Start

by Reddragon1995



Category: Game of Thrones (TV Show)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, I am hers and she is mine prompt, Jonerys, Jonerys Week 2019, Mostly Fluff, One Shot, fuck season 8, jon snow being romantic, making amends, newborn baby boy, the epilogue we deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddragon1995/pseuds/Reddragon1995
Summary: After Dany gives birth, Jon presents her with a gift





	Take Me Back to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> Jonerys Week 2019 Day 3: I am hers and she is mine

Every time he looked at her, his breath was taken. Even now. Especially now, as she lay resting against the pillows, eyes closed, the babe suckling contentedly at her breast.

Just a few hours ago, she’d birthed their boy into the world, tiny but apple-cheeked, a wisp of downy white curls and clouded dark eyes that had only opened for a few moments.

It amazed Jon, that he could make something so perfect. So pure. The stain of his life as a bastard was still with him, that thing that told him he would never be good enough, not for his father, not for his family, not for the North, not for  _ her _ . But she was the first to accept him as he was, she did not look down her nose at this base born king, and she probably loved him more because of it.  Even if it wasn’t true, in his core, Jon Snow was who he would always be, and Jon Snow was who she wanted.

The events that led them here had been a whirlwind. Enough time had passed for them to meet, distrust one another, fall in love, make a baby, and fight together in two wars, but it seemed no time at all. Their love was born of turmoil and trauma; the fight against the dead, the loss of friends and dragons and, for a while, each other, as they grappled with the truth of his parentage. Grief, mistrust, even betrayal had sought to drive them apart, but she’d walked through fire more than once, and this time he went with her. All was not well, not entirely, but he was determined to put it right. His love for her was more than enough motivation, but witnessing the birth of their son forged his will like Valyrian steel.

Jon sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, his weight depressing it enough to stir Dany from her light sleep.  Her eyes opened and she smiled sweetly at him, and she’d never looked more beautiful, disheveled hair and tired, shadowed eyes and all.  What she’d done should not be humanly possible, even though women did it every day, and she made impossible things happen. He was so proud, so full of love and devotion and protective instinct, he was ready to burst. He had to fight the urge to run through the corridors of the castle, to shout his joy from the clifftops of their ancestral home, to proclaim it from Dorne to the Wall and across the Narrow Sea that he was a father, and she was a mother, that they were a family, that the Targaryens were not gone.

He dipped his head and placed a kiss on the baby’s brow. The boy’s mouth was slack, but when Dany tried to remove him from her breast he latched on determinedly, suckling away, his little lips and jowls moving in perfect rhythm, even if her milk hadn’t come in yet to give him much to swallow.

“Greedy lad,” he whispered, a grin splitting his face, reaching his eyes.  

“He’s had a long day.”

“I could fetch the wet nurse if you want to rest.”

“No,” Dany cooed, brushing her fingers lightly over the babe’s forehead.  “A bit longer.” She kissed the top of his head and inhaled, relishing that infant smell.

“I...um...I have something for you,” Jon said tentatively.  He fumbled around to reach into the pocket of his trousers, and pulled out a polished wooden box on which was carved a sigil, an amalgamation of a dragon and a wolf, an image in his mind’s eye that the wood carver had perfectly captured.

Dany’s eyes widened. “You’ve never given me a gift before.”   _ Except him,  _ her face seemed to say.

“It’s long overdue.  Open it.”

She tried with one hand as the other was trapped by the babe, but Jon impatiently took it from her, feeling silly that he’d already mucked this up, berating himself for his thoughtlessness. He just wanted this to be special.  He worked the latch and opened the lid. The box was lined with a cushion of red silk, and buried within was a necklace.

He’d never seen her wear a necklace or much jewelry at all; she had two rings ever present on the first fingers of both hands, the three-headed dragon chain she donned with her more formal dresses, and a pin she sometimes wore in her braids, but he took a chance anyway and commissioned it from a jewler in King’s Landing about a month ago, waiting for the proper time to present it.

Gingerly, he removed the necklace from the box and held it by its silver chain. From the chain hung a pendant, a smooth and egg-shaped piece of obsidian, polished such that it shone almost like a black diamond. Tendrils of silver branches wrapped around the bauble, holding the glass in their thin fingers.

He saw her eyes moisten as she reached for it, and he dropped it into her free hand, watching expectantly as she held the pendant between her thumb and forefinger.

“Is this….”

“Dragonglass,” he said quietly, so as not to disturb the babe.  “Not some rare or precious stone, but….it’s the reason we met. I had it made for you.”

“I love it,” she said with a watery smile, her lips quivering, begging to be tasted.  “It’s beautiful, Jon.”

“You’re beautiful,” he countered, taking it from her hand and opening the clasp, then leaning forward to place it around her neck.  When it was accomplished his hand strayed to cup her cheek, and his eyes became solemn. “Dany, I know we have a ways to go, for things to be like they once were.  Maybe they never can be again. But I never want you to doubt that I love you. Not just as my family, not just as my son’s mother, not just as my Queen.”

“Jon, I know…”

He interrupted her with the brush of his thumb over her full lips.  “I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry I hurt you, that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. It will never happen again.  You are my world. You, and our boy, and I’m not just sayin’ that because I’m in this daze of new fatherhood. I mean it. I love you, Daenerys Stormborn. I will always love you. That I ever made you doubt it was the greatest mistake in a lifetime full of mistakes.  Can you forgive me?”

She could no longer hold in her tears, and the trickled freely down her cheeks, dotting the baby’s face, but he was oblivious.  Gently, Jon wiped them away from her eyes with the pad of his thumb, while he anxiously awaited her answer.

“There is nothing to forgive, Jon. I made mistakes too. The best thing we can do is put them behind us. We can’t change the past. We can only hope to never repeat it.”

Jon touched his forehead to hers, taking care to avoid squashing the baby between their bodies.

“We won’t,” he assured her, as he lowered his lips to brush hers.  “I am yours, and you are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> “That I ever made you doubt it was the greatest mistake in a lifetime full of mistakes.”
> 
> I can’t take credit for this line. It’s lifted from the 2001 film Life As A House, screenplay by Mark Andrus. But it’s fitting.


End file.
